Read Online The Shroud Key by Vincent Zandri - Free Book Online Page B

herself a glass of wine, issues me a slight sideways glance as she goes to the window, opens the shutters wide, allowing the air to cool and dry her at the same time.
    “What are you looking at, Ren Man?” she says while stealing a slow drink of wine.
    I sit up, slide off the bed. Stepping up beside her, so close I can smell the heat coming off her naked skin, I take hold of her glass, set it down onto the window ledge. I take her in my arms, gently. She pretends to struggle, but not enough to tell me to back off.
    “If you’re trying to figure out a way to say thank you,” I say, “it’s okay. You don’t have to.”
    She issues a quick laugh.
    “Remember,” she says, “you’re being paid … Paid well. You’re doing me no favors.”
    Our eyes lock and I feel drawn into her. I sense she’s feeling drawn into me also. With the window open, I can feel the cool air on my neck. I know she can feel it on her exposed shoulders. Moving in closer, I feel my mouth gravitating to hers and hers to mine. Our lips touch …
    … Then Checco barrels into the room.
    “No time for love, Chase,” he barks. “Time is wasting. If you want to see the shroud you have to leave now.”
    Anya quickly pulls away from me, as if we’re back in junior high school and her parents have just arrived home unannounced.
    Checco smiles, his brown eyes bright and shiny.
    “Am I interrupting something? Perhaps I should leave.”
    “No, Checco,” Anya says, making the towel more tight and secure around her torso. “Chase and I were just enjoying the view outside the window … Isn’t that right, Chase?”
    “Couldn’t have said it better,” I exhale. “Just enjoying the view.” Then, “What do you have for us, Checco?”
    He reaches into his jacket pocket, produces a stack of tickets, our passports and also a new smartphone for Anya.
    “Natalia and I have discussed the situation,” he says. “She will grant you access to the shroud. But you must come immediately.”
    “How soon is immediately?” I say.
    “Now.” Looking at his watch. “The five-ten train to Milan and from there, you connect to Turin. Natalia will see you tonight at seven thirty outside the sacristy doors of St. John the Baptiste. You will be travelling together. But with an assumed identity.” He disappears into his office down the hall. When he comes back he’s holding a box in his hands. “The sizes might not be perfect, but they will have to do on such short notice.”
    He sets the box on the bed. I go to it, open it, lift out the first article of clothing.
    A navy blue nun’s veil.
    I toss it to Anya.
    “That is going to look damn good on you, Sister,” I say.
    “And this will look heavenly on you, Chase,” Checco says, pulling something else out of the box.
    It’s a priest’s collar.
    “You have a plan to go with these getups, Checco?”
    “Allow me to refresh your wine,” he says, heading back out of the room, “and I will confess everything to you.”
    “Good choice of words,” Anya adds.
    “Get dressed, Sister,” I say. “I’m having unholy thoughts.”
    “The shower’s right in there,” she says, cocking her head towards the bathroom.
“The cold water will do you wonders, padre.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
    For the time being, I’ve become a priest and my present employer, Anya Manion, has become a nun.
    Dressed in black pants, matching jacket over a black shirt and stiff white collar, I am travelling under the assumed name of Father John Crews. Anya is playing the part of Sister Rosaire de Marie, and the navy blue nun habit she dons proves it. We are two ecumenical scholars studying the shroud and its history. Together we believe the fourteen foot length of cotton fabric is not a medieval fake, but the true two thousand year old burial robe of Christ. That is, according to the documentation provided to us by Checco. The forged documentation signed and sealed by the Vatican and presently stored in my shoulder bag, along with fake